On a warm night
by Meg london
Summary: After Mimi dies, how exactly does Roger take it? His cool response is not what we expect, but will he ever break down? Read to find out. PLEASE READ AND REVIEW. I need more imput.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Warmer than most nights.**

Tonight was warmer than most nights. Not exactly mid-summer in the state of Arizona kind of warm, but in the still of an autumn New York night it was warmer than usual. On a night like this, Roger Davis felt the need to watch the world on the balcony of his loft. On a night like this, Roger Davis took time to reflect on what had happened over the past year. There had been the rent fight with Benny that was still so freshly in his mind because the night that they resolved it was the night that would change everything between him and Mimi Marquez, the last person in his life to make him appreciate happiness. It's considered odd if in New York you ever experience the smell of something natural, something that doesn't make you want to cough up your lungs. Tonight, although he had no idea where the scent might be coming from, he smelled flowers. Not the kind that some old lady keeps on the windowsill of her 3rd floor walk up but the kind that grows naturally in a park. Central Park was nowhere near Avenue A.

Through the lens of his camera, Mark could notice little details covering the face of his friends. When he watched old reels he could see the dimples that formed whenever Angel laughed at one of Collins jokes. The sad attempt to look happy whenever Mimi wasn't around that Roger used so many times. The way you could just tell that Joanne was silently pissed off at the way Maureen had stared at another girl. It was all present when his eyes were pressed so tightly to the camera. His camera wasn't on tonight. Any other night he might want to catch the raw emotion of a scene like this but tonight, it was too close to his heart to ruin with film.

"Should we try to get him to come back inside?" Maureen's voice almost sounded like an echo. The loft apartment was so quiet that any voice might resonate in it, no matter the volume. Most people might think that Maureen Johnson was insensitive, self-absorbed and lacking to find a better adjective, crazy. At times Maureen could exude the latter two qualities but Maureen was anything but insensitive. In fact, she tended to be overly sensitive. It seemed to her sometimes that the only person who ever really noticed that was Joanne and even she sometimes couldn't understand the deep hurt she felt every day seeing the people she loves around her fall out of her life. These were the first words she had spoken all night.

"I think he needs a little time, whatever we plan on doing, I think it can wait." Collins whispered, trying not to get the same amount echo as Maureen a few moments before.

"But…" started Maureen, but soon backed away after a disappointed look from Collins shot her way. After all, Tom Collins knew what he was talking about. Collins had experienced this much earlier in the year and still somehow struggled through. Some people might think that this would be the breaking point for anybody, but Collins was strong, and he wasn't worried about himself. It was Roger who really had everybody concerned. Benny silently cried in the corner. Benjamin Coffin the 3rd who hadn't shed a tear in many years had been silently sobbing in the apartment he tried to take away from his ex-roommates. Tonight was the kind of fall night that they all had been dreading for the past couples of months.

Tonight, Mimi Marquez, age 20, died in her apartment from a heroin overdose.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: In complete...**

In the distance over the buildings across the street, Roger could clearly see the name of some glitzy New York club spelled in lights. He hadn't cried this time. After the initial shock the last time he'd thought this had happened to him, Roger began expecting, almost wishing for her timely death. It's not that he didn't love her; there was nobody in the world he loved more than Mimi. She was the absolute center of his universe, it was just that everybody knew it was going to happen sooner or later; it was just a matter of when. Roger hated thinking this way; he hated the thought of his impending death feeling the same way in his friends' eyes. He had just convinced himself that he wasn't affected by it, but sooner or later, it would catch up to him. Hard. He breathed in one last time, the cool yet warm autumn night, and walked inside from the balcony of his loft apartment. It seemed that everybody around him tightened their shoulders and stopped their breathing when he walked back into the room. He wasn't used to being the center of attention, in fact, he rarely remembered a time when his friends all stopped to look at him at once. To reassure the crowd, Roger attempted a smile, the bottom part of his lip pushed up to hold this grin on his top lip. The silence still held. Besides the fact that Benny was still blubbering in the corner, nobody dared to speak a word. They all knew Roger commanded the stage; it was choice that everybody would obey.

"Do any of you want some coffee?" these were words that Mark never expected to hear from Rogers lips. The tone in Rogers voice seemed nonchalant, even concerned for his friends. Mark couldn't help but think something was terribly wrong with Roger, but instead of causing a scene, Mark decided that maybe right now a little lightening of the mood might do well to some of the other people sulking around in his loft.

"I think we could all use some." Joanne said completely out of the blue, almost taking the words right out from underneath Mark's feet. Still, with the few nods, the silent agreement came to the opinion that coffee was exactly what everybody needed at this very moment. Mark nodded and followed Roger over to the kitchen area. Mark came to the conclusion that he needed to talk to Roger now but it was best not to do it in front of everyone. Taking the coffee pot from off the Mr. Coffee, Roger poured out the day old coffee that he was sure wouldn't impress any of these New Yorkers. Mark leaned against the counter, palms curving along the sides. "Roger." he said, almost accusingly.

It was the most painful way he'd ever heard anybody call his name. It was like he was accusing him of letting her die. Still he tried his best to lighten the mood of the room and looked up, pretending not to hear the worry in Mark's voice. "What's up?" he inquired.

It made Mark want to cry for the first time in years when he heard the coolness of Rogers' response. How could anybody be so calm after their best friend and lover died? He sighed instead. "I know you feel the need to be strong, for everybody else, but now is not the time to act..." the words were immediately throw aside. "I'm not, I'm okay, I promise." said Roger, like he actually believed it. But thing was, he did. He believed it so much, that it literally hurt everybody else to see him so happy.

By this time Benny had wiped away the uncharacteristic tears and made his way into the kitchen. He hadn't spoken a word all night but yet again, he hadn't stopped crying since he found out. At this point in time, Allison had handed him the divorce papers and his father in law had agreed, with civil intentions, that they were no longer compatible professionally. Nobody in the loft really knew what he was going to do next, they just silently watched hoping he didn't plan a mass murder in the name of cyber arts. He walked right up Roger and literally threw his arms around the rock star figure. His fingers clutching around the leather and skin. A bit taken aback, Roger didn't do anything at first but soon realized that this was something that Benny needed, not that Roger needed from Benny. He regrettably embraced his old roommate, repeating "shh" in his ear. A look complete and utter confusion crossed Mark's tired face and Roger looked back at his friend with a 'who knows' expression, lingering there in between them. Mark sighed and went back into the main part of the loft, plopping himself down onto the makeshift sofa and resting his chin on his palms. It was quite clear there was no progress to be made with Roger tonight. He was in denial, he knew that much. It appeared to Mark that no amount of friend on friend counseling could ever get Roger to admit how bad he hurt.

This time Collins played the silent card. Everybody knew that Collins wasn't the type to play wallflower. By definition that was Marks' job, after all he was the filmmaker. But tonight, he couldn't help but observe the hurt. By now Benny had finally let go of Roger and Joanne was running her fingers through Maureen's hair, Maureen letting small tears fall from her eyes. Mark had been consoling his own palms, which wasn't unusual for Mark; but Collins, Collins was just there. From where he was sitting, it seemed like nobody could notice him. He never meant to feel like the center of attention, but right now, he felt like the loneliest person of all and the worst part of it was that he felt angry. Angry at Angel for leaving him alone to grieve, angry at Mimi for making such a stupid mistake, but mostly; he was angry at himself for still thinking about nothing but himself when right in front of him was a friend he knew was going to self-destruct. Everybody knew that sympathetic look in his eyes. Tonight was no exception to hiding it. He quickly stood up walked towards the kitchen, anticipating the hand he was about to place on Benny's shoulder. Once he happened he took a silent breathe. Benny turned around inquisitively and once he noticed it was Collins he looked back at Roger. "I think it's about time we all went home." Said Collins, bravely.

Confused Roger muttered, "You don't want to stay for coffee?" He felt slightly disappointed when a calm Collins shook his head in refusal. "All right Thomas, you have a good night, and make sure that Benny gets home safe." He nodded and mumbled something like 'sure' or 'okay' but it didn't matter much to Roger. As everybody watched Collins and Benny leave there was a slight air of sadness spreading through everyone's lungs. Everyone was secretly afraid that this meant 'goodbye' but no one dared to say it.

Soon enough the couple that everybody thought might as well be featured in this weeks people stood up hand in hand. Joanne led her to the door as usual and Maureen trailed behind. While Joanne put a hand up in the air to leave with a friendly but subtle goodnight, Maureen let go, running up to roger and placing his face in his small hands. She sighed and gave him a "great Aunt Regina" kiss on the cheek and backed away, giving a big theatrical wave. "Night." She said dramatically.

"Night" both Roger and Mark said simultaneously. And now it was just the two of them. Mark and Roger, Roger and Mark. They sat there for a while just staring at each other when Mark finally mustered up the courage and walk right up to Roger and grab his arm. "Roger" Mark said almost as angrily as the last time.

"What?" inquired Roger.

"We need to talk."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: I'm cold, are you cold?**

The thing about his withdrawal that Roger remembers the most were his tremors. Late at night he'd wake up and couldn't stop himself from shaking so bad. Most of the time he would cry out for Mark to come and hold him, but sometimes he'd just sit alone through them just fighting them himself until they went away. It's not that Roger wanted Mark to hold him it was just that Mark did, to compare Rogers fast pace body with Mark's steady pace. Most of the time it worked to stop them. Others it didn't but Mark didn't care. He couldn't stand seeing his friend go through so much agony. Much like tonight.

Suddenly Roger was brought back to reality. He sighed heavily and shook his head. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" Roger repeated this line in his mind at least 3 times after he had said it.

This is what frustrated Mark. Roger was the most alert person he'd ever known. Little things would never pass by him because he was incredibly intelligent and had a talent for memory. Not very many people knew this about Roger. Most people perceived him as a tossed up wannabe rock star with an attitude and a few retired track marks. Mark glared at him with eyes that might have been mistaken as angry. "I said we need to talk Roger. This isn't like you."

This made Roger mad. He had no reason to upset or angry with Mark, in fact all day he'd felt sorry for Mark and the way he'd been handling himself. Early that day for the first time in years he saw Mark cry. Roger averted his thoughts back to the conversation. Recently his mind was easily wandering. Roger bared down his teeth and sneered through them, "I don't know what you're talking about Mark. I'm being the only way I feel I can be. This is me Mark, don't you know me?"

Mark shook his head. Why was he being such a cocky asshole? Mark cooled himself and reminded himself that Rogers girlfriend just died and it could take a day or two for his reaction to finally come. He'd read somewhere that's what happened when somebody incredibly close to you dies. But yet again, he'd never seen Roger react to Angels death this way. It was wearing Marks brain out to be analyzing this too much so he just nodded. He'd realized he hadn't taken off his jacket since they first came inside after finding her. He removed his jacket and spoke almost too softly to be heard in the opera house acoustics of the loft. "You're right. I'm sorry, I think its time to go to bed." It was about 2 in the morning after all.

Roger nodded in agreement heading towards the opposite end of the apartment where his room was. No thoughts came to him except that he was very tired and that it had been days since he'd gotten a decent nights sleep. Roger went into his bedroom and melted down onto the bed that was barely a foot off the floor. He laid his head back and thought about the events of the next day, what to do, and with what money to do it with. Roger would have to contact Mimi's mother and arrange a funeral fit for her. It wasn't long after these thoughts started that Roger drifted off to sleep.

In the other room Mark silently shed his sweater when a horrifying thought came to his mind. They had all gotten so wrapped up in the days events that they had forgotten to.. oh shit. Mark quickly ran to the loft door, pulling the heavy door open as fast as he could. He almost scuttled down to the apartment that Mimi Marquez once inhabited.

Or in this case still did.

As a school of flies darted in all directions Mark walked into the apartment that smelled not unlike formaldehyde. After the days events Mark realized that nobody moved her.

Mimi Marquez sat in the same position of her death, decomposing on the floor of her apartment.

* * *

For such a warm night it seemed to Maureen to be the coldest night of the year. Colder than December, colder than January, even colder than the night that Angel died. Maureen held onto Joanne so tight that Joanne felt strained to keep Maureen walking. When they arrived at the front door of their apartment, Joanne struggled through her purse to find the keys to their apartment. Behind her she felt Maureen slink her arms around Joanne's waist. She turned around knowing that Maureen had something to say.

She whispered into Joanne's ear so quietly that Joanne wasn't even sure this was the same Maureen. "I'm cold, are you cold?" The words seemed so simple and uninspired but at the moment Joanne couldn't help but rest her head against the door and cry.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: If I had a hammer...**

Benjamin Coffin the third had quieted his tears by now and was merely sniffling. More often than not Collins would either be insulting Benny or be deep into conversation about the intellectual movement that Collins insisted the next generation was going to miss out on. As they walked down Avenue A, neither men said a thing. For the first time since they've known each other there was a deeply intellectual understanding for pain. Benny didn't understand when Angel died because Benny didn't love Angel like Collins did. Sure he paid for the funeral and yes he consoled the others but he never really hurt the way Collins did.

Tonight Benny hurt like hell and Collins was happy. Happy that the son-of-bitch actually had a heart enough to hurt. They walked together like that for at least a mile when Benny turned to Collins abruptly and shook his head in silent disbelief. "If I had a hammer," said Benny, coiled up in his own misery, "I'd slam it into Roger's face." Such a comment astounded Collins. Benny could be a fucking prick sometimes but he never ever threatened anybody in such a violent way. Furious, Collins shoved Benny, sending him stumbling back to sit on a nearby doorstep.

"What the fuck are you talking about man? The boy just lost the love of his life. Can't you understand that?"

Benny stood up to face Collins up close and personal. "The 'boy' didn't even shed a tear. She loved him so much and he wouldn't even shed a tear when she died. What does this tell you Collins?"

Collins was heaping mad at this point. All this frustration, all this anger had been bubbling up inside of him the whole night but because Collins didn't believe in violence he simply walked ahead and left Benny spitting and cursing behind. For most of what Benny was yelling Collins managed to tune out but one thing stopped him in his tracks.

From behind him he could hear the yuppie scum who was crashing at his house say "He never even loved her Collins." At this point Collins felt like turning around and telling Benny that he didn't know anything about love, that he didn't understand the way it hurt Roger on the inside but he couldn't.

Because he was thinking exactly the same thing.

* * *

The coroner must have been pretty bored with Mark's panic since coroners experience dead bodies all the time but at this point Mark and stepped outside to get away from the smell and the look of the dead body. He'd never really seen one before and he felt like vomiting just to be near the apartment where Mimi died. The strange thing was that when he saw the corpse for the first time she looked peaceful. It bothered him to think that Mimi could be so peaceful when she died. It seemed almost unlikely that she would be because if there was anybody with a flare for life it was Mimi Marquez.

A small fee was paid for making an emergency trip in the middle of the night but Mark didn't mind paying a fee to get the corpse out of his sight. He didn't hate Mimi at all, he just couldn't stand to see something dead lingering around their building.

A memory came to mind of a time when Mark remembers seeing Roger hanging his arm around Mimi walking down that very same Avenue A. It was shortly after her the death-scare and they'd been doing pretty good together. Mimi herself looked not unlike her present corpse. Thin and tired but most of all they looked happy. Mark was brought to the 'sad realization that the happy face of Rogers' was present still, even after death.

Mark wasn't sure why he was still thinking so much when he was dead tired and traumatized but only after 20 minutes of seeing the truck leave in the darkness of the night, did Mark head back upstairs to sleep. By now it was 4 in the morning and he wanted nothing more than to just fall asleep forever. Passing by her empty but still messy apartment Mark made sure to cover his mouth to hide the smell. Somehow it still crept into his nasal cavities and he coughed into his hand. Quickly he scuttled up to his room. Right now it was time for this night to end, and he would make sure it was done as quickly as possible.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: The morning after.**

Mark remembered a time when his dad would take him camping. Of course Marks father only ever set up the tent in that backyard of their house because Mr. Cohen was a successful Jewish book editor who would never actually degrade himself into going "outdoors." Most of the time on their camping trips he would bring work and tell Mark to build a fire. But being the absolute anti-boy scout he was, Mark always stole one of his fathers' cigar lighters to light the logs in the backyard. All Mark really ever remembered about his father and those camping expeditions was the warmth on his face. Funny how with such big memories, only little details ever manage to stay in a child's brain. It had to be about eleven o' clock in the afternoon because the sun was shining through his loft apartment and he could feel the warmth on his face. Slowly it came to be obvious that the warmth was not from the autumn sun but from a lighter two inches away from Mark's face. Mark jumped back and quickly grabbed his glasses off the nightstand. For a moment he wasn't sure if was being robbed or murdered. After his eyes adjusted in his frames, the filmmaker shook his head and sighed. Roger had been holding the lighter in front of his face to his to wake him up. "What the fuck was that for Roger? You could have seriously injured me." Mark was not amused.

Roger, amused like he always was over stupid stunts like that, sat back in the chair by Mark's bed and laughed. "Oh man," he said, catching his breathe, "You should have seen the look on your face. It was like somebody was going to kill you." he continued chuckling until his stomach couldn't handle it any longer.

"To be entirely honest I was absolutely sure somebody was." Mark mumbled, still feeling shitty after the previous nights events.

Roger stopped his giggling and frowned the first time since Mimi died. "Listen Mark," he said in a tone all too serious. "I'm sorry about last night. I want to let you know I appreciate you being there for me."

Being there for him? What the hell was he talking about? The only person who was there for anybody was Roger. Mark played along for the time being and closed his eyes, still tired. "It's okay Roger." his eyes opened. "Listen last night we forgot to…"

Roger rudely interrupted Mark's confession and boasted with plans on how he was going to take care of everything concerning Mimi's funeral. "I've got to call Mimi's mother to let her know about what happened and I've got a meeting with a funeral director today. I wanted to know if you could come along."

Mark was entirely confused but still nodded. "Sure Rog, but..."

Again he interrupted. "I think we could have the post-memorial gathering here and..."

It was Mark's turn to interrupt. "Roger!" Everything fell silent. The words were hard for him to get out and you could hear the trembling in his voice, all the sadness and the pain in one sentence. "We forgot to call the coroners yesterday. If you're really serious about planning this funeral then you're going to have to go down to the morgue and identify her body."

Rogers face suddenly turned pale. "Mark I…"

"And another thing" Mark added, trying to evoke some emotional response from Roger. "They say since the body was not picked up immediately for preservation that any chance of an open casket is gone."

Mostly Roger felt sorry for Mark, he could tell that he was on the verge of tears. But somewhere in the back of his heart, lying there with old memories and whatnot, Roger felt mortified. Like this was all becoming way too real.

Roger didn't need to call Mimi's mom, the coroners had fingerprinted Mimi and contacted her themselves. A message on their answering machine said. "Roger, Mark." A thick Spanish accent gave away her identity. "Please forgive me for the news I am about to tell you." Roger and Mark already knew but they listened on in their loft anyways. They couldn't ignore her astoundingly melancholy voice. "My little Mimi chica, pueda su descanso de la alma en el cielo, pass-ed away. Please forgive me, Santa Maria. Phone me as soon as you get this. This is Mrs. Marquez. Goodbye." Roger never was a big fan of Mimi's mother. He'd only met her once on a trip to New Mexico but hearing her voice, he could hear the similarities between her and her daughter. Right now that voice sounded like an Angel.

* * *

One reason Maureen always knew she was a lesbian was that she never kept any male Barbie dolls. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson always bought them for her but she _always_ found a way to make them disappear. Maureen Johnson only now realized that she had done this. She had one, she remembered quite well. Her mother never wanted her to have it but she insisted and as we all well know, Maureen Johnson always has her way. She was a Hispanic dancing doll that Maureen appropriately called "Maria." Maureen remembered never putting that doll down and it dawned on her that it was Mimi as a doll. Maureen stood in her kitchen drinking a glass of wine when the thought appeared and she smiled. It was only noon but Maureen found that it was acceptable after a tragedy like this to loose yourself in the middle of the day. A few minutes later Joanne stormed through the door and sat on their Ikea couch, rubbing her temples. Maureen peeked in from the kitchen and danced into the living room, sitting next to her companion. "What's wrong Pookie?"

Joanne sighed at looked at Maureen who obviously had a glass of wine in her hand. "It's noon and you're drinking?"

Maureen laughed and joked, drunk. "Did you want me to wait until you were home?"

That famous face that everybody knew Joanne for spread across her face. "I expected more from you." She said, angry as all get out. "Mimi just died and I'm having a difficult time trying to get a decent church to hold the service at. How can you be drinking at a time like this?"

It was official. Not even alcohol could mask Maureen's pain. She snidely replied "All the better to deal with you, my dear." Joanne merely shook her head and took the glass of wine from Maureen, finishing off what Maureen was still working on. "Oh right, Roger called and said that he's going to take care of all the funeral arrangements so you, miss priss, don't have to worry about what church its going to be held at." Joanne nearly choked on the wine. "Excuse me?" she spit out.

"That's right, Roger's taking the initiative to plan a big, wonderful funeral."

"No, we can't let him do that, it'll torture him to have to deal with all the details of her death."

"Have you even seen him?" Maureen said, standing up to go fill up her glass again. "I've seen more emotion in somebody watching the grass grow."

It was always these unexpected fights that made Joanne and Maureen grow closer together. Joanne looked up at a worked up Maureen and grabbed her hand, pulling her down into an emotional embrace. Joanne wasn't ready to start living normally yet. All she wanted was somebody to hold onto so hard that they could never escape. That person, tonight, was Maureen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: We love what we loose.**

One thing Roger knew he would never miss about Mimi was her answering machine. It was true that Mark and Roger had the most annoying message for their machine but at least it was witty and original. Maureen's and Joanne's were never the same, Collins didn't even have an answering machine and Benny's was always set and ready for a business call. Mimi's though, it was boring and every time he'd leave a message he'd feel unimportant and even melancholy. Simply she'd recorded it after celebrating her first night in her own apartment, high as usual, and never bothered to change it. "This is Mimi," he remembered hearing it say. "You know what to do." There were times he just wanted to scream at the way she said things so apathetically. It made him feel like she was aching just to finally pass.

It was mid-afternoon and Roger hadn't even worked up the energy to take the subway to the morgue. By this time it was two in the afternoon and Mark had somehow managed to get up, get dressed and make himself something to eat. Like usual, Mark offered with his best attempts to get Roger fed and Roger refused. Although polite about his refusal it was still the same shtick every morning. Mark observed Roger in his moment at the window, like always and sat across from him, looking hard into the eyes he thought might tell him something. Today they were like reading a blank page. Mark nodded, quietly accepting this fact. He waited a moment for the unspoken moment to pass and as soon as he moved to speak the both of them looked up. "I thought that maybe I could come with you to the morgue, just to have a little bit of moral support, if you want to."

Roger looked up from the spot on the wall that he was rudely staring at. He made his best attempt at a real smile and nodded. "That would be great, Mark. Just let me grab my jacket and then we'll go." He stood and moved to where his jacket lay in his bedroom as he spoke. Mark nodded and got up as well to put down his coffee mug, grab his own jacket and knapsack. Maybe it was Mark's own emotions taking over his brain but it seemed like suddenly they were on the subway. Time seemed to slip away these days almost as fast as his friends.

* * *

This afternoon Collins was doing his best morning after impression. He quickly pulled up his pants as soon as Benny's eyes opened. A little bit confused, Benny sat up and rubbed his eyes. "You going somewhere Collins?" he said, almost afraid to be left alone. Collins looked back at Benny and pulled a sweater over his shoulders. 

"You know I had a good time, I'm just not the relationship type." He didn't crack a smile. It was more sarcasm than humor. Benny looked back up at Collins with a sneer painted on his face.

"I'm serious, just because I'm crashing doesn't mean I have to put up with your shit." Benny felt feverish and angry.

"I'm just meeting the boys down at the station." Collins remarked. "Mark and Roger are going down to the morgue to identify the body and Mark wanted me to come along. I'll be back in a couple of hours if that's okay with you darling." More and more Benny was regretting the decision to sleep over at Collins place. He averted his eyesight for the time being. He could feel a surge of emotion coming on and didn't feel like expressing it as much as he had last night. "I would offer to come and help out but I don't think that I could stand to be around a corpse. I think it'll just fuck me up."

Collins nodded; for once he understood exactly what Benny meant. He waved and exited his apartment almost too silently. He was too sure that this wasn't going to pretty. He was positive that this would be Roger's breaking point. Still, he continued onto grand central station to meet Mark and Roger. Roger and Mark.

* * *

This was the first time in two days that Mark had even turned his camera on, he was almost sure that he left it alone long enough to collect dust. Some of the film left on it was from a support group he, Roger and Mimi had attended just a few days before. He couldn't help but think that there was some kind of ghost left in his camera. He pointed the camera towards Roger who was buying the tickets to the train. He looked like himself, hassling the ticket giver as usual. 

Collins always walked into a roomwith a bang and today was no exception. "I'm here." He said, loud enough so that the entire station could hear his rough, bass voice. Roger turned and smiled at Collins, greeting him with hug and a ticket. Mark sighed, this was going to be it, this was when Roger was going to break down. He just knew it. Mark was not excited for this trip, even more he was terrified but when his two friends looked over at him all that he could do was fake a smile and put his camera into his bag.

Again, a big chunk of time just dissappeared from Mark's life and as soon as he knew it was getting off the train by the morgue. Apparently he had been speaking to Collins about how he'd found Mimi the night before so when Collins asked "What did she look like?" Mark honestly replied.

"Peaceful." It took all of five minutes to walk to the morgue and when they reached the steps of the building Mark and sighed, closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don't think that I'll be able to do this." Memories from the night before rushed through his head and suddenly Mark felt the need to vomit.

Roger looked over at Mark in remorse. It was obvious that Mark was traumatized and all Roger wanted to do was take that fear and disgust away from his best friend. But he couldn't and he figured that the only way Mark was ever going to survive this was to face his fears. Roger played the moral support card again.

"But Mark, you promised!"

This time Mark really felt the dissappointment in Roger's voice. It wasn't like the other times when he faked empathy, Mark could really hear the emotion in Roger's tone. So, reluctantly, Mark nodded and opened the door open for his two friends.

Immediately Roger went up to the front desk, with confidence, and said. "We're here to identify the body of Mimi Marquez." Suddenly something along the lines of indegestion or food poisoning stabbed Roger's stomach and he stumbled back into a chair. Immediately Mark and Collins rushed to his side, checking his forehead for a tempture and rubbing his arms to comfort him. After a few minutes Rogernodded, stood up and loosened his shoulders. The pain had passed he was ready now to go see his lost love. Mark and Collins stood up behind him and stared at eachother inquisitively. The morgue clerk did the same. Roger looked back at his two friends as Collins almost shouted. "What the fuck was that?"

Roger looked back at Mark with an "tell him" look but Mark just stared confused at him, shaking his head. Roger turned back around and grabbed Collins by the arm. "It was just a spot of indegestion, I'm okay now." Suddenly Mark felt like this wasn't going to happen today. Roger wasn't going to accept this and it hurt him so bad that he just strayed his vision to focus on something besides the dissappoiting Roger.

The clerk led them to where she was being kept but put one finger up to imply that only one person could go in at a time. Roger shrugged and followed the clerk inside. Taking the keys from around his neck, the clerk unlocked what looked to be a filing cabinet drawer and opened it. Accepting the surgical mask from the clerk, Roger peered over the drawer and lifted the sheet from the body and immediately he looked away. One image stayed in his head as he tried so hard to forget, but Roger knew he had to look again. He slowly looked down at the corpse and nodded. He never remembered seeing her so fragile. Mark was right though, she looked more peaceful that he'd ever seen her. Maybe it was what she wanted. Maybe she planned it all along.

"It's her." he said simply and made went straight over to the door, looking down at the floor as the clerk 'put her away'. As the clerk opened the door Collins and Mark immediately stood up from where they were sitting. Roger, unwillingly, broke the news witha silent nod to them. That was it, it wasn't just some crank or deceptive thing Mimi pulled, Mimi really was dead. Roger knew this in the back of his mind somewhere but all he could really think about was how terrible the smell was.

"We're going to have to cremate her." Roger whispered.


	7. Chapter 7

I'll probably finish this in two or three more chapters. I'm getting impatient.

Poem a.k.a. lyrics by the Microphones.

PLEASE review. I think I may have rushed it. I just felt like it was dragging on and it's not supposed to be a long story.

**Chapter 7: I felt your shape. **

Roger couldn't remember writing anything but as soon as he looked down at the notebook he'd been holding for the last hour there was an entire poem written in ink. It's title was "I felt your shape" and instead of reading it, like any writer might do, Roger simply closed the notebook and stood up from the spot he was sitting on the train. The train came to a small halt and Roger realized that none of his friends were with him. Three days had passed and Roger was beginning to feel left alone and abandoned by his friends. Still, he maintained a positive attitude as he stepped off the platform. The moment he saw her face a fantasy came to him about him and Mimi old, happy and full. He just knew that if Mimi had survived that she would look exactly like her mother. He gave a sympathetic smile and walked right up to Mrs. Marquez, embracing the woman he was never really fond of in the first place. Although not European, Mrs. Marquez gave Roger a kiss on each side of his face. He smiled politely and linked arms with her walking her as far as her hotel (three blocks to be exact.) Mimi's funeral had been almost entirely arranged by Benny, completely against Roger's wishes. Everybody but Roger agreed it was for the best and even Mimi's mother didn't side with Roger, which made him angry but also apathetic. Mimi's funeral was to be held in 2 days and Roger felt unprepared, as if he were going on some wayward journey.

After running a few errands, Roger made his way back to the loft. Once entering he noticed his group of friends standing around in black attire. Joanne was the first to notice him enter the loft. She quickly jogged to the door. "Where in the hell have you been?" she questioned sternly. "I was running errands, why? What's up, why are you all dressed in black?" Mark looked at his best friend and didn't move a muscle except in his mouth to speak.

"Please tell me you're kidding Roger." He said hoping that this was another one of Roger's jokes to lighten the mood. Roger still looked confused. Mark began to hyperventilate and Maureen rushed over to calm him. She turned to Roger and shrugged, silently asking him if he really didn't know what was going on. Still no response. "Roger Sweetie today is Mimi's funeral. Didn't you know?" At that moment Roger caught eyes with Benny. He could feel the guilt in his stomach and hoped that Benny had just planned this whole thing to make him look stupid. Benny just nodded and that told Roger everything he needed to know. Roger had forgotten. The most important event ever and it completely slipped his mind. While he stood in the middle of the loft processing what had just happened Joanne looked over at Benny and said as calm as she could muster, "Let's go to the church and try to delay them as much as possible." She looked over at her lover. "Maureen, help him get ready as fast as possible and I'll meet you there." Maureen nodded and soon Benny and Joanne were out of sight.

* * *

Fitting four New Yorkers in a taxi has never been successful but today it really didn't matter to any of them. Roger sat next to Maureen who sat next to Mark who was idly looking out the window. That same little notebook where all of his thoughts and artistic ideas bloom was now being scribbled in to finish some type of speech for the ceremony. Maureen looked at the boy scribbling in his notebook and sighed. She whispered in his ear so that Mark wouldn't hear. "Roger, why don't you just sing that song you wrote for her? Or one of your poems? That's got to be better than some silly speech." 

Roger really never had a problem with Maureen because she never hassled him with worry and whatnot but right now she was really starting to get on his nerves. "Fine." He mumbled. "You pick something." He threw the notebook onto her lap and she looked over with a raised eyebrow. "Fine." She sneered back.

Maureen flipped through the pages of the notebook and almost missed the poem titled "I felt your shape." This was the first time since they left that the cab was quiet. Both Mark and Roger were looking out the window and Collins was trying his best to ignore the stench of the cab driver. Tears came to the dramatic eyes of Maureen and she looked over at Roger, not even knowing what to say. How could he write something so beautiful and still not be completely heartbroken? Maureen sighed and wiped the tears away from her eyes. She closed the notebook and handed it back to Roger. "You have to do that beautiful poem."

He looked over at her confused and shook his head. "What beautiful poem?"

"I felt your shape. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever read."

He remembered the name but he couldn't quite grasp what it was about so he just ignored her enthusiasm and agreed to read it at the funeral.

* * *

A group of people had already shown up and the four of them seemed to make an entrance, but nobody really minded. Roger was glad to see that Benny and Joanne had taken the liberty to pick up Mimi's mom and was almost too happy to see the support group there, bawling their eyes out. They quietly sat down as Benny stood in front of everybody. 

"I think everybody knew that she could have done great things. She was so motivated and full of energy that if she had just set her heart on it she could have done it. Roger knows," Benny looked over to Roger who was sitting front row with a sympathetic smile on his face. "She went through hell just to be with him but in the end I think it was for the best." He sighed and allowed Maureen to take the stage, so to speak.

"I remember having a Hispanic dancer doll when I was a little girl. She had long beautiful curly hair and a fabulous dress that I never took off her." Maureen sighed and looked around the room full of mournful faces. "When I finally met Mimi, it felt like I had met the person who embodied the kind of girl I'd like to be best friends with. And she was the best type of friend a girl could ever have. Kind, fun loving, absolutely beautiful and caring. She had a graceful air about her that I was always envious of. I realize now that she was one of the best things to happen to our group of friends. I'll miss her." Tears were coming from Maureen's eyes now and she just stepped down and gave a small hug to her somewhat bitter but caring ex-boyfriend Mark.

Mark went up to the podium and sighed. He put on a small smile remembering her face and nodded. "It's unfortunate that my first impression of Mimi was when Roger and I would go to the cat scratch club and watch her get tied up. We'd be in the back of course, afraid to show our faces. But for some reason every time we would pass

on the street or be going up to our loft and we'd pass she'd smile or even greet us. She truly wasn't afraid to be anybodies friend. She was the embodiment of love and charisma and I think if anything, I'll miss her loud boisterous laugh. She always did have a knack to make the rest of us break out in laughter whenever she laughed." Mark smirked. "It really helped us realize how much life was worth."

Roger eyes started to droop. He was tired and angry that he'd forgotten but mostly upset with his friends for not reminding him. He realized now that Mark had been staring at him and signaling him to come up onto podium so he stood and made his way up to the front of the church, Mark coming down from his place and allowing Roger to replace him.

He sighed and pulled out the notebook turning to the page where Maureen had left a folded edge. He'd realized now that he hadn't even read through it and took a moment up at the podium to read through it. Something from somewhere, he didn't know what, but something hit him hard. It felt like something was compacting his head causing all the water in his body to come out through two glassy eyes. The words on the paper read.

_I thought I felt your shape but I was wrong  
Really all I felt was falsely strong  
I held on tight and closed my eyes  
It was dumb I had no sense of your size _

It was dumb to hold so tight  
But last night  
On the birthday in the kitchen  
My grip was loose my eyes were open

I felt your shape and heard you breathing  
I felt the rise and fall of your chest  
I felt your fall  
Your winter snows  
Your gusty blow  
Your lava flow  
I felt it all  
Your starry night  
Your lack of light  
With limp arms I can feel most of you

I hung around your neck independently  
And my loss was overwhelmed  
By this new depth I don't think I ever felt

But I don't know  
The nights are cold  
And I remember warmth  
I could have sworn I wasn't alone


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Happy Death**

_To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead._

_-Bertrand Russell,_

Everybody knew that Mimi Marquez was doomed, especially Mimi. Anybody who grew up in the place where she occupied was bound to live a doomed life. Mimi never knew her father, like most junky strippers. But it wasn't that, it was just written in her bloodstream. A-I-D-S. It wasn't really a shock to Mimi when she found out that she was positive, she just always kind of assumed something so tragic would happen. Mimi knowing of her impending doom was like when an actor knows that she is not going to get the part, she just felt it.

She'd been planning it for almost a year now because for sometime her health had been failing and Mimi Marquez was not the type of girl to slowly rot, she wanted to go out with a boom. Everything was laid out and even though she was just an exhausted shell of a creature she mustered up all her energy to make sure this night went as planned. After Roger came home Mimi started up the routine yelling and screaming. The last couple of months, fighting had not been an unusual affair. Tonight for some reason, Roger didn't feel like fighting, he was too tired, too weak from taking care of her that he didn't even stop to yell back, he just went right back out the door up to the loft which he sort of inhabited. This sort of hurt Mimi, she was looking forward to seeing his face one last time and the way that he left, she didn't even get to see his apathetic look. She let one tear fall from her face and that was it. Tonight she had to do it and there was never going to be anybody to stop her.

The syringe, lighter and spoon were neatly laid out on the floor and Mimi pulled the rubber band with mouth, using almost all the strength she had left. Slowly she slipped the needle into her vein and before she had any time to second guess the liquid flowed through her veins.

Maureen would find her lifeless body four hours later.

* * *

Roger could barely get the words out his mouth, which felt so dry, his head felt so compressed. "I thought I felt your shape." Roger said, managing to hold down whatever had been trying to come free. "But I was wrong. Really, all I felt was falsely strong."

Mark stared in disbelief at his friend. He couldn't believe that it was actually going to happen, for a long while, Mark was convinced that Roger would never accept it. Tears were falling from the filmmaker's eyes.

Roger continued. "I held on tight and closed my eyes. It was dumb I had _no_ sense of your size." Two drops formed in each one of Rogers tear ducts, an image of Mimi's small, corpse-like stature played like movie in his most vivid psyche. His large hands were shaking now and something shook with them, almost like another hand.

"It was dumb to hold on _so_ tight. But last night, on the birthday in the kitchen, my grip was loose and my eyes were open."

Joanne felt Maureen's grip tighten so hard, and it hurt but she felt like it was the only thing keeping her from melting away. But it was too late. Joanne felt her own body mesh with Maureen's and at that moment, it was two minds fighting over one blob of a body. But she was glad. Glad that she had Maureen to hold onto tighter than anything in the world.

"I felt your shape and heard you breathing." Roger stopped for a moment and put a hand over his eyes. He couldn't help but let out a loud whimper. Regardless he continued. "I felt the rise and fall of your chest." He could imagine all of her body just crumbling away, bits and pieces of her body scattered all over the city sidewalks.

"Your winter snows" her cold soft skin.

"Your gusty blow" her useless shouting.

"Your lava flow" her warm, exciting touch.

"I felt it all, your starry night" her hair in the moonlight.

"Your lack of light" her pale body.

"With limp arms I can feel most of you." His arms limped almost at the sound of his own voice repeating these lines.

By now Collins was bawling with absolute torturous pain but complete joy that Roger had finally accepted her death. His own tears were in complete sympathy. It was a cliché for him to think this and he knew it but he thought that if Angel had been there, she would have been so proud. Somehow he believed that she was.

"I hung around your neck independently and my loss was overwhelmed. By this new depth I don't think I've ever felt." Roger was crying now. He couldn't control the way his body forced out the tears and painful memories.

"But I don't know, the nights are cold, and I remember the warmth." He read the last words in his head, turned back to the pick of her sitting next to her urn and kneeled. Whispering. "I could have sworn I wasn't alone." For a moment everybody sat in complete silence. Nobody dared to move a muscle because this was Roger's moment and even the sobs were silenced when a big scream of pain came from Roger's lungs. This wasn't just hitting him hard; this was hitting him hard in each sensitive area that Roger ever felt any pain.

Everybody felt like they should go up there to stop him from destroying himself but it was Mrs. Marquez who stood up first and walked over to Roger, sensitively lifting Roger from his kneeling position and placed a small kiss on his forehead. She then looked over at the picture of her daughter, picked it up and placed a small kiss on the photograph.

She simply said, "Adiós, Mimi."

* * *

"This is Mimi, you know what to do." Said the all too familiar voice on the other end of the phone. A quiet beep followed. Roger cleared his throat and spoke. "I know it's silly, but I wanted to let you know I always hated this answering machine message. I never wanted to remember you this way but now I wish I could hear it over and over and over again. I called just to hear your voice again; it's dumb, I know. I know you'll never hear this but I just wanted to say something." Like Mrs. Marquez's voice, Roger's voice was so incredibly morose. "I love you Mimi, I love you more than you'll ever know, more than you ever did. So Goodbye, Mimi. No, Goodnight." Click.

* * *

Fin


End file.
